Shur'tugal
by Orya Zar'rac Draumar
Summary: Book four, done properly. First chapter's a prologue.
1. Prologue

The servant was nervous.

He hurried down the corridor of Galbatorix's castle, his feet making no sound as they padded against the stone flagons of the floor. On his right were rows of simple doors, and on his left was a series of high stained-glass windows looking out into the gardens, and beyond that, the faint glimmer or Leona Lake.

It was twilight, and the servant, being only fairly new, was lost. The dish he carried carefully in his hands leaked the delicious aroma of honeyed ham as he walked. He knew that he had to be present for the feast at the main dining room on the floor below, but he didn't know how to get down there. The castle was like a maze, and trying to retrace his steps only ended in him becoming more lost. The man was beginning to worry: the king would not tolerate his tardiness.

He decided to begin checking each of the doors on the right side, just in case they held a staircase or something that would allow the man to get to the lower floor.

The first and second rooms were locked, enchanted by magic. The third yielded a plain room, bare except for a large telescope angled out open window.

The fourth room was the most uninteresting of them all. A small bed was pushed up against the far wall, the sheets dirty and worn. The floor was dirt slate. A single small, barred window looked out into the spine.

And in the centre of the room, on a wooden plinth, was a small, oblong object which glimmered faintly in the light coming in through the open door.

The man looked around to make sure the corridor was truly empty, before stepping inside the room and shutting the door. Gloom filled the small space as the door shut, but still the object shined. The man walked three steps up to it, and peered down.

It was a rich, forest green colour, shot through with webs of a lighter green. It was cold to the touch, and smooth. It was obviously valuable, and the servant wondered why such an object had been left out in the open.

_Maybe it is not worth much, then, _the man reasoned. _Otherwise the king would take better care of it. _

What the man didn't know was that the king _had _been taking care of it; in fact, the man should have been killed several times over when he entered the hallway, but a curious combination of luck had saved him.

For a start, Galbatorix had enchanted the entire floor so that anyone with the intention of going up it would have been blasted back down to the floor below. The man, however, did not purposely go up the stairs; he was lost and looking for the dining room, and had therefore thwarted the enchantment because he had not _intended _to go up to that floor_. _Spell-casting was a tricky business, and even the mad king himself could not think of every possibility.

The second rigged enchantment was timed. The instant the man had touched the landing, the corridor outside the room had become invisibly charged with magic. If the man had set so much as a toe inside the corridor at that time, he would have been utterly incinerated, and several alarms would have gone off inside Galbatorix's head. However, the enchantment was set only to last for three minutes, in case the king himself wished to visit the room. Because the man had then searched around trying to find another staircase, he had avoided the corridor completely for more than three minutes, and the enchantment had faded a minute before the man had rounded the corner into the corridor. By sheer luck, the man had managed to make it to the room, in which Galbatorix's most prized possession lay, inconspicuous and out of the way.

Like any servant who didn't particularly like his employer given the opportunity would do, he picked up the object and slipped it into the pocket of his leather apron. Then, carefully, he snuck back out of the room and onto the floor.

The man eventually found his way down to the second floor, and handed his dish to another of the servants. He then turned and walked swiftly back to the kitchen, asked the head cook if he could borrow her horse, and from there urged the horse out of the stables and onto the long gravel drive which lead to the black gates. A hurried excuse about needed supplies for the kitchen was sufficient enough to let himself past the two bored looking guards, and then the servant was away, galloping down the road into the city of Urû'baen, intent on trading the perhaps-valuable stone.

It was several hours before the castle shook with Galbatorix's anger, and by that time, the trader and the pretty green stone were far from Urû'baen.

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**I know that this may seem a tad unlikely, but I promise that everything is as realistic as I can make it.**

**Until next time.**

**Atra esterní ono thelduin**


	2. Chapter 1

The sun alighted over the hills in long, blood spires that pierced the stone walls of Feinster and bathed everything in a deep red light. It had been three days since the Varden had taken control of the city, and the residents of Feinster had coped fairly well with the occupation.

The light shone in through an irregular shaped hole in one of the high towers of the keep, bouncing off the dragon Saphira in a wonderful array of purple light. She and her Rider were dozing, still recuperating from their desperate dash from Du Weldenvarden to Feinster, and the loss of their teacher Oromis. They were not to sleep much longer, though, because from the door came a persistent knocking.

Groaning, Eragon sat up, rubbing his eyes as he reached out with his mind to Saphira, who snorted and released a puff of smoke beside him.

_Good morning, Saphira, _he said to her as he swung his legs over the side of the cot and pulled on his shirt.

_Good morning, little one, _Saphira replied, stretching and yawning like a cat, her teeth razor sharp and gleaming in her mouth.

He then brushed his consciousness against that of the person outside the door. To his surprise, it was Arya.

_Shadeslayer, _she acknowledged, but waited to see him face to face before saying anymore.

Eragon got up, quickly washed his face in the small bathroom just off the room, and attempted to smooth his hair. Recognising the futility in this, he walked back out of the bathroom and opened the door. Arya stood there, as expected.

"Good morning, Arya Shadeslayer," Eragon said, using her new title. Her lips twitched slightly.

"Good morning, Eragon," she said as she stepped into the room.

After greeting Saphira, she turned to Eragon again.

"Nasuada asked me if I would come and find you. She wishes to talk to you. She also requested that you bring Glaedr's Eldunarí." She paused. "Have you managed to make contact with him yet?"

"No," Eragon replied. "He's grieving, and I only get the occasional flicker of emotion. I didn't think it was fair to try to communicate with him."

Arya nodded. "Nasuada wishes to see you within the hour. Goodbye, Eragon."

"Wait, where are you going?" Eragon said.

She paused. Everything was silent for a second. "I have to talk to my Queen," she said, before leaving the room.

_You're lucky, little one. I thought she was going to snap at you, _Saphira said.

_I thought so too. Perhaps our relationship is progressing… _Saphira snorted.

Severing the connection, Eragon washed himself in the bathroom, shaved with magic, and pulled on one of the tunics that the elves had given him, before belting Brisingr onto his side and carefully picking up the bag holding Glaedr's Eldunari.

_Ready? _asked Saphira, releasing another puff of smoke as she stretched slowly to avoid knocking things over in the room.

_Ready, _confirmed Eragon as he climbed on her back. When he was properly seated, Saphira launched herself into space, a dizzying drop that just missed the roofs of the lower houses in Feinster, before righting herself and sailing the city walls to where some of the Varden were still camped. Most of the Varden had been given rooms in the city, but there wasn't enough room for all of them, and Nasuada had elected to show solidarity by staying in her tent.

Saphira touched down gracefully in front of the command tent, whilst Eragon slid down her whilst carrying the Eldunari, and walked over to the guards.

"Nasuada requested an audience," Eragon said impatiently when they barred his way. They waited for a confirmation before allowing Eragon to pass.

_I'm here almost every day. Surely they know who I am by now, _he thought to Saphira as she entered the tent.

_Nasuada's safety is the most important thing, _she replied. _I am unsurprised._

Eragon grunted_._

There were several people in the command tent—Jörmundur, Nasuada herself, Arya and a beautiful young human woman. Saphira head was poked through a flap in the wall. Eragon felt his elven spell casters arrange themselves outside via his mental connection.

"Lady Nasuada," Eragon said, dropping to one knee and bowing.

"Stand, Eragon," she said, in an impatient voice. "There is much to do and little time to waste. A simple greeting shall do next time."

"Yes, Lady Nasuada."

She nodded, before turning back to the group proper. "As you all know, we've now secured the city of Fienster, and they're prepared to fight with us against the Empire. Lady Lorana, whilst bound by her oaths, wishes this. Because she cannot act against these oaths Galbatorix has placed upon her in the ancient language, she had abdicated leadership of Feinster to her daughter, Esmeralda." She nodded to the beautiful woman.

"I am more than willing to help the Varden in the war against Galbatorix," she said, a slight smile on her face. She looked at Eragon. "I'm especially looking forward to working closely with _you." _Eragon blushed and Nasuada looked at her sharply.

"Where to go from here, is the real question. We have quite an advantage; we hold a major city, we're not far from the Empire, and Galbatorix's pet rider and his dragon are wounded." Eragon cringed at this.

"Obviously we must march north to Belatona, and from there to Dras-Leona, before finally entering Urû'baen. It shall take a couple of weeks to organise Feinster and the Varden together to march, and in that time, there are a number of small towns we can seize, including Melian. The Varden will have no trouble with taking these, and it shall provide us more troops, in addition to Orrin and the Surdans."

"What would you like me to do in that time?" Eragon asked.

Nasuada sucked in a breath before flicking her eyes from Jörmundur to Esmeralda.

"Jörmundur, if you and Esmeralda could wait outside…" Nasuada said. They both nodded politely.

"As you wish, my Lady," Jörmundur said and they both left the tent.

"Skölir covo öran," Eragon muttered. "Our words are shielded."

Nasuada nodded. "Okay, onto business. Eragon, have you been able to contact Glaedr?" Eragon explained to her what she had this morning.

She nodded in assent. "It would be nice to have his knowledge aiding us… We can only hope he is able to speak with us soon. The queen spoke to me this morning," she continued. "She wishes you, Eragon, to join her in Gil'ead. The elves have succeeded in taking control, as we suspected, and Islanzadi requested your presence."

"Why?" Eragon asked.

Nasuada shifted. "She thought you may want to be present for Oromis' and Glaedr's funerals."

There was silence in the room.

"I…wish to go," Eragon said, with some difficulty.

Nasuada cleared her throat awkwardly. "I know… I know that he meant a lot to you, so I'm giving you a week to mourn him before I send you on your next mission."

"Thank… thank you, Nasuada."

She nodded.

"I don't wish to see you until we take Belatona, so I must give you your next mission now. It is perhaps the most important I've ever given you. I want you to go into the land, and for the next three weeks, search for evidence of Eldunarí.

There was silence. Then Eragon spoke. "My Lady…"

"Eragon, listen to me. I truly, truly believe that these Eldunarí are our only hope. I've been pondering this for four days, Eragon, ever since you told me of their existance. What did that werecat Solembum tell you?"

It took Eragon a moment to remember. _"When all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls," _he recited the words that Solembum had said, almost a year ago, though it felt like more than a lifetime. "You think the Vault of Souls contain Eldunarí," he added, the truth dawning on him.

Nasuada nodded. "I can't come to any other reasonable conclusion."

"But…" Eragon began. "I don't know where the rock of Kuthian is. I wouldn't even know where to begin looking!"

"Well, you had better get started then," Nasuada said in a tone that brooked no argument. "The elves, perhaps, may know. You have three weeks. Oh, and if she doesn't mind, I would like Arya to accompany you."

Arya stirred beside him and looked at Nasuada. Obviously she hasn't been told of this plan either.

"This is, of course, only if she consents."

Arya was silent for a full minute, then nodded. "If it will help the war against the dark king, I will do everything in my power to help Eragon with his task."

Eragon let out a sigh of relief he didn't even know he was holding.

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**Thank you for your attention on this story. Hope you're enjoying it. **

**As for the chapter lengths, they will vary, sometimes by a lot. Some will be short, like this one, and others will be long. **

**And on that note, I've already chosen the final dragon-rider. The person will be who you least suspect. I think.

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**Glossary:**

**Words in the ancient language that I made up in this chapter (I'll make it up if I can't find a record of it on the internet. If you know the canon one, please tell me):**

**Ӧran****:** our

**Covo:** conversation


End file.
